Unforseeable
by SoulofChibs
Summary: Sam Morgan is a loner who is entranced with folklore, and urban legends. He believes in everything. When he meets the new student Dean Winchester at school, Sam is immediately drawn to the mysterious stranger. But after showing Sam that all he believes in is, in fact real, Dean disappears. Can Sam get over him and get on with his life, or will Dean haunt him forever?
1. Chapter 1

Authors Notes:

I don't own these characters, I just like to mess with them. No money has been made.

This is an AU and they are not related.

_Shit, _Dean thought as he stared down at the crumpled paper in his hand dejectedly. He knew his transcripts were a mess and that the math test was something the school needed to place him, but all he wanted was to get through a month or so at this damn school before he moved on once more. Instead he had the misfortune of attracting a teacher who "cared" who decided that, despite the mess of Dean's school records that he was a decent student in everything but math. Hence the reason why Dean is sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the classroom waiting for said teacher so they could discuss his "future".

At that Dean snorted. He knew what his future entailed, whether he wanted to or not. Saving people and killing things, the family business. He had been a hunter for what seemed like his whole life, and he knew it was an important job. However, as his Dad repeatedly lectured him, their _covers _were also important which was why Dean, at 19 years old, was trying to get his high school diploma in a little Boston suburb that he couldn't name if you asked him.

With his good looks, cool car and bad boy persona, Dean never had a problem fitting in wherever he ended up. Girls wanted to be with him and guys tried to copy him. And for a while, Dean had liked the attention. God knows his Dad only noticed him when he didn't do something right. But lately he had found the attention from strangers wearing and shallow and in this school he was keeping a low profile. Not that he was that successful, judging from the love note slipped into his locker from some chick named Angie and the teacher who wanted to "challenge him."

The door opened and his head jerked up in time to see Mr. Cross walk into the classroom with someone following behind him.

"Ahh, Dean, thank you for coming, sorry about the wait, I had to track down Mr. Morgan here, " gesturing to the hunched figure behind him.

Mr. Cross moved to sit behind his desk and Dean got his first look at _Mr. Morgan. _He was tall and thin, but his face still had some baby to it, like he had grown too fast and the rest of him was trying to catch up with it. His shaggy brown hair went in every direction including in front of his eyes, which didn't meet Dean's. His face was flushed and he was biting on his lower lip with straight even teeth. He wore an oversized hoodie with a Red Sox logo and his jeans looked stiff and new and Dean couldn't help comparing them to the threadbare pair he was wearing.

Dropping into the chair beside Dean, the kid placed his overstuffed backpack between his legs and looked up at the teacher, blowing his bangs out of his eyes with impatience.

Mr. Cross looked a few papers on his desk and began to speak. "Dean, this is Sam. He is a junior, but in all advanced math classes. I have asked him to tutor you for extra credit and thankfully," at that the teacher smiles at Sam, "he agreed. So, now we just have to work out a schedule for you boys."

Sam turned and looked directly at Dean and Dean felt his stomach lurch a little. His eyes were slanted, tipped up like an exotic animal and seemed to be a myriad of colors. Dean gulped a little. The kid, _Sam_ was hot. Like. Stupid hot. Not a complication Dean needed. _Shit._

Sam had not wanted to tutor some stupid new guy, but Mr. Cross was a good teacher and had said the magic words "extra credit" that had Sam following him to his classroom.

Sam was a math whiz but it wasn't something that interested him. He did, however need a scholarship and every little bit helped. He had big dreams and he knew the only way he was getting to college was through scholarships because his mother's waitressing job sure as shit couldn't do it. Not that he expected her to. But he knew she would feel bad and probably work her fingers to the bone to put him through school and that was the last thing he wanted. He could do it on his own.

Ever since he was small people had thrown around the words genius and special and advanced when it came to Sam. Those words changed when he got to high school. Now they were more like, loser, retard and faggot. He wasn't sure how any of his classmates could know his sexual preferences since he himself wasn't sure but apparently he gave off a gay "vibe" or so the captain of the football team seemed to think. So he kept to himself, excelled in his studies, helped his mom out and dreamed of the day he could leave this town behind and go to college.

Sam believed that anything was possible. Everything could be real, and until it was completely discounted, Sam figured keeping an open mind was something a smart person should do. He was fascinated with urban legends, myths and folklore. He fervently believed in ghosts and angels and everything in between. And when he finished college, he was going to become a paranormal investigator and prove it to the world.

When Mr. Cross had mentioned that Sam and the new guy needed a schedule, Sam had inadvertently made eye contact. Oh how he wished he hadn't. The guy was gorgeous, like out of a magazine, beat off material for a month, make the tongue stick to the roof of your mouth gorgeous. Short, dark blonde hair spiked up carelessly, lightly tanned skin, amazing green eyes fringed with the longest eyelashes Sam had ever seen, full lips that begged to be kissed and sucked and freckles. Honest to fucking God freckles. That's it, Sam decided. God hated him. How the fuck else could he explain the fact he was being forcibly paired with the biggest wet dream he had ever laid eyes on?

Sam had sort of zoned out so when Dean mentioned days he was available in a low, sexy voice, Sam had been picturing them making out in the closet to the side of the room. Dean had an eyebrow raised and a small, knowing smirk on his face, which brought Sam back into the present really quickly.

Hoping against hope he had heard right between pornographic fantasies, Sam mumbled, "Wednesday and Friday are OK. Long as we meet at the diner."

"Diner?" Dean's face lit up a bit and Sam puffed out his chest, although the diner had nothing to do with him, save his mother's never ending work schedule.

"Yeah, Charlie's Cupboard, on main and 10th. We can uh, meet there." He shrugged and looked down.

Dean was silent for a moment and then said, "They got pie?"

Sam smiled and met Dean's eyes again, his breath only catching for an instant before he boasted in a soft voice. "Every flavor you can think of and probably some you can't."

Dean smiled at him and Sam swooned a little on the inside. "I dunno, I can think up a LOT of stuff."

Sam suddenly wished they weren't talking about pie anymore.

What do you guys think? Worth continuing?


	2. Chapter 2

Dean stood outside Charlie's Cupboard, staring at the special's board that boasted meatloaf and boysenberry pie in colorful chalky swirls. Someone had even attempted to draw a piece of pie, albeit badly. He peeked in the small diner window, noting the charming decor that looked more like a home than a restaurant. He spotted Sam sitting in a back booth, an older woman fussing with his hair while Sam attempted to duck out of her reach. Dean smiled and felt his heart constrict slightly in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time someone touched him with actual affection. Sure his Dad straightened his stance when target shooting and just a few weeks ago had grabbed Dean's hand to haul him up when a Wendigo had thrown him 10 feet, but that was about the extent of it.

He watched for a few more moments, stomach dipping slightly when he saw the woman say something to Sam and Sam's answering grin. Dean had never seen him smile and now he wondered why the kid didn't wear one all the damn time. His candy pink lips split over even white teeth and deep dimples were etched into his cheeks and Dean wanted.

Dean considered himself an equal opportunity slut when it came to sexual encounters. He liked both men and women. Well, mainly guys but girls seemed to be easier to get and since he wasn't anywhere for long enough, he didn't have time to forge relationships with guys just coming to terms with their sexuality. So his encounters with guys had mainly been quick and messy, in truck stop bathroom stalls while he hoped like hell his Dad wouldn't come barging in, and one time behind a movie theater.

He already knew that whichever way this Sam swung, the kid was special. He wasn't a brief encounter and Dean could feel the disappointment trickling down the back of his throat. No, that smart kid had a bright future, while Dean had a depressingly short life span as a hunter. He shook himself out of his dark thoughts, plastered a half assed smirk on his face, and walked into the diner.

The bell over the door jingled and Sam looked up reflexively, watching Dean walk toward him from under his bangs. The older boy hadn't gotten any less perfect looking since the last time Sam had seen him two days before. He moved with a confidence that Sam envied, like someone who knew exactly who he was and was comfortable with it. He wore faded jeans that hung off his hips, accentuating his slightly bowed legs. He had a faded Led Zeppelin tee shirt underneath his leather jacket, and when he slid into the booth across from Sam, Sam caught the scent of leather and spicy cologne. His mouth watered slightly and he felt his dick twitch in his pants and groaned inwardly. Sometimes, being 16 really sucked.

Dean said, "Hey Mr. Wizard, ready to unstupid me?" Sam frowned.

"Are you really that stupid cause I can't work miracles, despite you considering me a wizard?" He shot back. Well, this was off to a great start.

Dean sobered for a moment and said, "I dunno, apparently Mr. Cross thinks I need a kid to teach me math, so I can't say I'm the brightest crayon in the box."

Sam looked down at his book and mumbled, "Not a kid," feeling his face flush. Of course Dean would think he was just a stupid kid, not an equal or maybe, someone he could be interested in. Sam straightened his shoulders and said firmly, "You ready?"

Dean nodded and pulled a beat up notebook and his math text from his own bag. He showed Sam his latest calculus assignment and as Sam read over it, the woman who had been fussing with Sam's hair came to the table.

"Hi there," she said and smiled brightly down at Dean. She must be Sam's mom from her appearance. Her hair was the same chocolatey color and wavy, tied back into a ponytail. She had the same tilted eyes, although hers were more blue than Sam's kaleidoscope of colors. And of course she had the same dimples framing a wide smile.

"Hi," Dean replied, giving her his most genuine smile.

"I'm Jenny, Sammy's Mama, what can I getcha?"

Before Dean could answer Sam looked up and said in a tight voice, "Mama, don't call me Sammy, you know I hate it."

She chuckled and ran her fingers through his messy hair. "Sorry baby, bad habit. Now are you gonna introduce me or would you like to me cuff you upside the head so you remember your manners?"

Sam's face pinkened and he ducked his head once again, saying in a soft voice, "Sorry Mama. This is Dean, the guy I am tutoring for extra credit." Jenny regarded him carefully and Dean tried not to squirm. She was the type of adult he tried to avoid, one of those that could see right through his lies and stories. Which was dangerous with his lifestyle.

She spoke to him in a kind voice. "Well Mr. Extra Credit Dean, it is a pleasure to meet you. What can I bring you to drink?"

Dean ordered coffee and then asked her what flavors of pie she had. She laughed and said to him, "House rules, I always choose the pie flavor for customers, particularly Sam's friends."

Sam was steadfastly looking down at Dean's paper, not wanting Dean to see the flash of disbelief on his face. He didn't have any friends, so his Mama, who he loved more than life itself had just told a huge whopper of a fib to a total stranger so he would think better of Sam.

Dean chuckled and said, "Yes, Ma'am," and Jenny retreated from the table. He watched her walk away before saying to Sam. "You're lucky, man."

Sam's head jerked up. "How do you figure?"

Dean gestured to Jenny behind the counter, scooping out pieces of mystery pie. "Your Mom, she's real nice."

"Oh," Sam said stupidly, "Yeah, she's great. My uh-best friend, I guess. Which makes me sound like a huge loser." He looked down again and bit his lip.

Dean shook his head and put his hand on the paper in front of Sam, making Sam look up through his bangs to meet his eyes. "Not at all, dude. My Dad's all I got and he barely knows I'm alive."

Sam felt a flash of sympathy for Dean, but before he could say anything more, his mom was back at the table, placing a piece of pie in front of both of them, forcing Sam to move the papers over, and filling up a cup of coffee for Dean. She put a glass of milk down for Sam and when he looked up at her with the expression 'really?' she chucked him lightly under the chin and said, "No arguments, with the way you are growing, you need it for your bones."

Embarrassed once more Sam nodded and she walked away, leaving them alone with their pie.

Sam glanced up as Dean took a big bite of pie. When Dean's eyes fluttered closed and he moaned lustfully at the taste, Sam's dick went half hard. Awesome. He wasn't going to be able to get up for a while, and he scooted self consciously closer to the table in case it was in any way obvious.

Dean finished chewing and dug his fork in again saying, "This is awesome, what flavor is it?"

Sam shrugged and took a huge bite of pie, chewing happily. Mouth full he mumbled, "Straspberry. Strawberry and raspberry mixed. S'good, huh?" He washed the rest of the pie down with a huge gulp of milk and he noticed Dean was looking at him with an inscrutable expression on his face, his emerald green eyes dark.

Sam raised an eyebrow and swallowed. "What?"

Dean leaned over and wiped pie filling from the corner of Sam's mouth, causing a shiver to run down Sam's spine at the soft touch. Dean's eyes held his for a pregnant moment before he brought his finger up to his own full lips and sucked it clean.

Sam had never had a more erotic moment in his life and it just figured Dean probably wasn't aware that Sam was probably going to jerk himself sore at the image of Dean sucking on his own finger for the next week.

The moment passed and Sam shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure off his hardened dick in his jeans, and coughed slightly. "Yeah, well, so. Your homework." He gestured to the notebook in front of him.

Dean shoveled in another mouthful of pie and said, "Ok so how stupid am I? Can I be fixed, or is it terminal?"

Sam laughed and looked up at him. "It's really not bad, you are just missing a couple of steps in each equation. Problem is, with this sort of thing, one step missed means you are coming up with the wrong answer pretty much every time."

He turned the notebook sideways and tried to show Dean what he meant, but the angle was awkward. Dean shocked him by sliding out of his side of the booth and gesturing for Sam to move further into the booth so he could sit beside him.

Sam groaned inwardly as he shifted over, wondering what he had ever done to deserve the sort of torture Dean was inflicting on him unknowingly.

When Dean had wiped Sam's mouth, he hadn't meant for it to be so...hot. It was just an impulse and of course, stupid Dean couldn't control his impulses, especially when it came to Sam. He had seen Sam's hazel eyes widen and then darken when he had sucked the sweet, red pie filling off his finger and he had done a mental fist pump at the idea that Sam might be interested in him.

So, throwing caution to the wind and despite the lecture he had given himself earlier about Sam and how he wasn't a brief encounter guy, he had used the weakest excuse possible to move to sit scrunched next to Sam in the booth.

Despite Sam reluctantly making room for him, Dean's leg ended up pressed against Sam's and the heat from the other boy was making Dean hard, fast. Up close, Sam's hair looked so soft he wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through it, and he smelled like innocence, something Dean hadn't even realized had a fragrance until he sat down beside Sam. It was pie, and laundry detergent and probably some sort of scented shampoo that combined were completely appealing.

Sam shot a quick glance at Dean and Dean noticed he had a couple of moles on his face that were adorable. Everything about Sam was adorable and Dean felt a pull towards the other boy that he had never felt for anyone. It was slightly terrifying.

Sam coughed again and then brought Dean's homework between them. Within a few minutes he had explained Dean's errors to him in a way that Dean could actually understand and soon Sam had him redoing the equations on a different sheet of paper, with Dean only missing two instead of 15.

After an hour or so of practicing with Sam overseeing his work, Dean stood and stretched, reaching for his wallet, and smiling at Sam.

"Thanks, man. I gotta graduate or my Dad may weld a dunce cap to my head permanently. You totally saved me."

Sam blushed slightly and watched Dean take bills out of his wallet with a curious expression. "Nah, you are fine. Why are you taking out money?"

Dean stopped and said, "Pie. Coffee. These are things we pay for, Sam."

Sam chuckled and said, "Not here dude. My mom will have a fit if you insult her with actual money."

Dean raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "Yeah? That's a good reason to come back here every day."

Sam laughed and Dean put away his wallet, then starting putting his things back into his backpack. He hefted it over his shoulder and stared down at Sam for a minute.

"Thanks again Sam. It was cool of you to do this for me."

Sam waved him off. "Extra credit, remember?" But he was smiling and biting his bottom lip again.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. He hesitated and then thought _fuck it_ and said, "So, how about you let me take you to a movie or something to pay you back?" His heart was in his throat as he watched Sam process the offer, his expression going from surprised to pleased to shy.

"Uh, yeah, I guess that would be cool," he stuttered out, face flushing again.

Dean smiled widely at him. "Awesome. This weekend. Meet out front of the Movieplex at 7, ok?"

Sam nodded, a wide grin on his still flushed face.

Dean couldn't resist. He winked at Sam and said, "It's a date, see you then."

He waved at Jenny and when he turned and walked to the door, he chuckled to himself when he heard Sam squeak, "A date".

Yeah, Dean thought to himself as he pushed open the door. A date.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean pulled the impala into a parking spot and turned the engine off. He didn't immediately get out, just sat for a moment trying to come with a decent excuse for the huge shiner he was sporting.

The case that had brought the Winchesters to this small town was complicated, which was the reason his Dad had forced him to enroll in high school so that he could get his diploma. They had even rented an apartment, albeit a small, dumpy one.

Every three years for the last 25 + years there were two deaths, all teenage boys, all considered double suicides. His Dad had found the pattern over six months ago and had begun researching possible motives for the deaths, sure that something supernatural had been the cause.

After two months, he had found a story from 1973 about two teen boys that had been out joyriding and their car had gone over an embankment. Nothing special about the accident according to police reports except both bodies had been thrown from the vehicle on impact. His Dad had gone over the grainy accident scene photos in detail but hadn't noticed anything out of place.

In fact, he had only put the suicides together with the fateful accident when he realized that every three years there seemed to be a couple of teenagers who form some sort of suicide pact and end up dead. Considering the town wasn't that big it was huge news and yet for some reason, none of the local cops had put together the pattern.

So last night Dean and his Dad had gone out to the accident site after dark, both of them holding flashlights and handguns, looking for signs of malevolent spirits. They hadn't found anything right up until the moment that Dean had ended up against a tree completely frozen in place. He had struggled and yelled for his father, who had come running and tried to pry him loose. When that didn't work his Dad had thrown salt at Dean, which had made whatever was holding him captive drop him immediately to the ground like a sack of potatoes, his eye hitting a large protruding tree root.

His Dad had hauled him to his feet and they had ran back to his Dad's truck. Dean had been so exhausted he hadn't even looked in the mirror until after his morning shower, groaning when he saw the large purple bruise. How the hell could he explain his new facial art to Sam?

With his background, Dean was an accomplished liar and had come up with several different stories to spin for Sam, but for some reason he couldn't name, he really didn't want to lie to the other boy. Coming to the decision that he would just 'wing it' he took a deep breath and got out of the car. The brisk night air slapped him lightly in the face and the idea of seeing Sam again set tiny butterflies spinning in his stomach.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Sam was sitting outside of the movieplex waiting for Dean, his favorite book balanced on his knees while his eyes jumped constantly from the pages to scan people approaching. His stomach was in knots he was so nervous and he had changed his shirt three times, which he realized afterwards was ridiculous since he had thrown a warm hoodie over top of it anyhow. He was wearing an older pair of jeans with a hole in the right knee and his black chuck taylors. He had tried to make his hair behave but it was useless, so it flopped around his face in its usual chaotic state. His mom had dropped him off at 6:45 telling him to 'have fun and say hi to Dean' with a knowing look in her eye and a big smile.

He rolled his eyes at her as he got out of the car, but he was secretly glad that she was so good about everything. His mother had never questioned him about his lack of interest in girls or anyone for that matter. She had always just let him be him, as weird and socially awkward as he was. After his study date with Dean, she had asked him a few questions about the other boy as they drove home, and Sam had given her vague responses and shrugged his shoulders a lot. When she had finally glanced at him and said, "He seemed very nice, and that face! He has the face of an angel!" Sam had blushed to the roots of his hair and tried to hide behind his bangs but he had no doubt she had noticed it and had caught on to his huge embarrassing crush on the older boy. Yet, true to form she had just driven the rest of the way home in silence with a half smile on her face, humming softly to the radio.

He glanced down at his book once again, skimming the words on the page, knowing them almost by heart he had read it so many times. A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see Dean smiling down at him, as gorgeous and perfect as he had remembered.

Sam smiled back shyly and said, "Hey."

Dean had said, "Hiya Sammy," and sat down on the cement next to him. Sam sort of wanted to tell Dean not to call him Sammy since he hated it, but truthfully coming from Dean it seemed sort of intimate, like Dean wanted to give him a nickname.

He looked into the other boy's eyes for a long moment, lost in the moss green color before suddenly realizing that Dean's left eye was bruised and swollen.

Unthinkingly he brought his hand to Dean's face, his long fingers tracing the bruise. "What happened?" he asked, his breath catching slightly when he saw heat flare in the older boys eyes.

Not moving, Dean kept his gaze steady on Sam as he said softly, "Nothin', you should see the other guy."

Sam swallowed hard and forced himself to move his hand away from Dean's soft skin. He looked down at his book, fighting to get his emotions in check. He didn't understand why he felt furious at the mark on Dean's face, like nothing should ever mar the perfection of the older boy's appearance.

Dean gestured at Sam's book and change the subject. "What'cha readin'?" It wasn't as much of a deflection, but Sam understood and flipped the book cover to the front so Dean could read it.

"The Unexplained Explained," Dean read, and chuckled. "You believe in all that stuff Sam? Ghosts, and demons and witches?"

Sam nodded, forgetting his shyness for a moment. "Yeah, absolutely. This," as he gestured around them, "Can't be all there is. Has to be stuff we don't know about, right?" His eyes cast up to Dean's waiting for the usual snide comment to come. He was surprised when Dean just sighed lightly and smiled again.

"You bet, man. Gotta be more going on." He stood abruptly and smiled down at Sam once again, holding out his hand.

"So, you ready to go see Bruce Willis blow up some shit?"

Sam nodded and smiled as he stuffed his book into his backpack. "Totally."

They walked towards the entrance and if Dean held his hand just a few beats too long, his calloused fingers rough against Sam's own? Well, Sam was not complaining. At all.


	4. Chapter 4

If you were to ask Sam later what the movie was about or how many other people were in the theater, he wouldn't be able to tell you.

After getting drinks and some candy Dean had led him into the back row of the theater. Sam didn't mind, after all, being as tall as he was he always felt slightly guilty sitting closer to the front and blocking other people's view.

Fifteen minutes into the movie all Sam had done was shoot sidelong glances at Dean. The older boy was confusing, and Sam was sure he was already over his head. He just couldn't bring himself to care, particularly when Dean shifted his leg and it came to rest beside Sam's casually, heating his skin through his jeans. He had never been so physically aware of anyone in his whole life and he was grateful the theater was so dark because he just _knew_ his face was flushed with nerves and excitement.

Opening his package of M & M's, he leaned in and said softly, "Want some?" holding up the bag for Dean to see. Dean's eyes widened slightly and he smiled sexily and said 'sure', but instead of putting out his hand he opened his mouth and met Sam's eyes with a direct challenge in his jade green gaze.

Sam had swallowed hard before shaking some candies into his own hand. He raised some to Dean's lips and was shocked when Dean's tongue came out, brushing Sam's knuckle slightly. Sam gasped quietly as he placed a few candies on it, flushing even more when Dean winked at him and whispered "Thanks Sammy."

Flustered and a lot turned on, Sam put the candy aside and tried to watch the movie. Dean shifted around a bit and Sam tried to ignore it, not wanting to look uncool to the older, obviously more experienced boy.

When Dean's arm snaked around the back of his seat, Sam jumped a bit and turned to stare at Dean. Dean's gaze stayed fixed on the screen, but he had a small smile on his full lips. Sam leaned back slightly and shivered when he felt Dean's fingers playing with the curls of hair on his neck.

They sat like that the rest of the movie. Dean's arm stayed around Sam, fingers caressing his shoulders through his sweatshirt and playing with his hair and the soft skin at the back of his neck. He leaned over a few times to whisper to Sam about the movie and his lips would graze the shell of Sam's ear, making him squirm slightly with the ongoing arousal Dean was causing him.

Sam was almost shaking he was so turned on, and when the movie ended and Dean moved his arm and stood to leave he had to bite back a whimper of protest.

When they walked out of the theater the cold air was almost a slap in the face and Sam tucked his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie as he followed Dean to the parking lot.

Dean stopped in front of a beautiful, sleek black muscle car and Sam stared in awe.

"This yours?" He glanced at Dean before approaching the car and running his fingers along the glossy paint.

Dean grinned, "Yep, this is my baby. She was my Dad's but he gave her to me when I turned 18."

Sam smiled as he stared at the car. "Wow, she's gorgeous."

Dean chuckled as he unlocked and opened the door to the passenger side of the car for Sam to get in. "Wait til you hear her purr."

WWWWWWWWWMMMMMMMMMMWWWWWWWWWWW

The ride to Sam's house had been quiet after their initial talk about the car. He liked that Sam seemed to love the car so much. Maybe he just liked the idea that Sam would appreciate something he himself loved so much.

The movie had been sweet torture for Dean. Sam sitting so close, the fresh smell of him filling Dean's nose every time the boy moved in his chair, his long, coltish leg leaning against his own. When he had opened his mouth for the candy from Sam, he had loved the blush that stole over the other boys features as he dropped the sweet morsels on Dean's tongue. Sam's eyes had been fixed on Dean's tongue and Dean was completely turned on at the idea that Sam might want to kiss him.

When he had made his move and put his arm around Sam, he had felt Sam shiver and the skin at the back of his neck pebble with gooseflesh as Dean had run his thumb down the soft skin. Sam hadn't shown much reaction but the constant flush on his face and the way he was biting his lip, Dean had known he was just as excited as he himself was.

Now as he pulled up in front of Sam's house, he felt himself get nervous for the first time in a long time. Should he kiss him? Should he ask him out again? Did Sam want to kiss him?

He stalled for time by staring at Sam's house through the windshield. It was tiny, a cottage more a house, but it was tidy looking and had pretty flowers along the front. The black shutters looked nice against the white paint of the rest of the house and there was a dim yellow light coming from two of the windows. Dean guessed Sam's Mom had waited up for him. He wondered for a moment what it was like to have a parent who took care of you that way. Who bought you new jeans because you had a growth spurt or made you drink milk, or waited up for you to get home from a date. His Dad never even asked him where he was going when he left the motel tonight. It was slightly depressing.

So lost in thought, Dean didn't notice that Sam had unbuckled his seat belt and scooted slightly closer to him until Sam said "Dean" softly in his ear.

Surprised Dean turned his head just in time for Sam's lips to descend on his own. Acting on instinct he turned slightly, tangling his fingers in Sam's hair to bring him closer, his tongue sweeping into the younger boys mouth.

Sam moaned softly and his own tongue shyly met Dean's. Sam tasted of candy and soda and something that was just Sam. Something innocent and delicious and Dean couldn't get enough.

He pulled away just long enough to look at Sam for a moment, his eyes taking in the boys slightly glazed eyes and kiss swollen lips before he murmured 'Sam' and dove back in for another kiss.

Sam's fingers were chilled as they came up to cup his face gently, tracing along his jaw and cheekbones. Dean never wanted the kiss to end, it was so perfect, so sweet and he strained to pull Sam closer to him, his fingers sliding under the sweatshirt the other boy was wearing to skitter across overheated skin.

Sam pulled back, panting slightly, his eyes wide as he smiled shyly. He pushed himself away from Dean and said softly, "I better go in before my Mama starts doing something humiliating like flicking the lights off and on or comes outside in her bathrobe."

Dean bit back his disappointment and nodded slightly as he tried to subtly adjust himself. He hadn't been so turned on by just a kiss in his life and it was kinda fucking with his head.

Sam reached up and ran his thumb over Dean's bottom lip before sighing and saying, "Thanks for the movie, Dean. It was a great...date." He grinned a bit and his dimples popped and Dean felt himself melt.

"My pleasure Sam. We should do it again. Soon."

Sam nodded excitedly, swooped in to kiss Dean's lips quickly and jumped out of the car. He jogged up to his front door, but instead of opening it, he turned and pushed his bangs out of his eyes and gave Dean a big heartbreaking smile and a small wave. Dean couldn't help but chuckle as he waved back. He watched the boy get safely into his house and couldn't help thinking how completely gone he already was over Sam after one tutoring session and one date.

Dean knew once they solved the case, he would have no choice but to move on. But for the first time in his life he was going to leave something behind he really wanted for himself.

And for the first time in his life, he hated being a hunter. 


	5. Chapter 5

_This part is John's POV. _

John Winchester was a hunter, a tortured man who had lost his wife to supernatural forces and found himself and his young son thrust into an unknown lifestyle in the name of revenge.

Despite what most people thought of him, John hated that his son was part of this life, and he was fully aware that if she were still alive Mary would kick his ass ten ways to Sunday for putting Dean in danger so often. He just couldn't stop himself. Not only did he feel the compelling need to kill supernatural things that hurt humans in memory of his beloved wife, he wanted his son to be able to take care of himself, to be aware of the world and what was in it so he wouldn't be taken away from John. He was also fully aware that his logic on the matter was completely fucked and that was probably one of the many reasons he drank so much.

Sighing to himself he got up from the badly scarred kitchen table in the latest shitty place they called home and went to Dean's room. The door was slightly ajar and moonlight from the dirty window was casting dim beams of light along his son's face.

Dean looked so much like his mother that some days John could barely stand to look at him. It was almost bizarre, his son had slightly female features that made him almost pretty, yet the kid could kick ass just as good as the most experienced hunters John knew. He saw the bruise on Dean's eye was still vivid and shook his head slowly, remembering his inner terror when he hadn't been able to move his son from the tree the other night.

John loves his boy more than anything in the world and knows that he has failed as a father in so many ways. He has been Dean's trainer, instructor, his drill sergeant, his hunting partner and sometimes his buddy. But rarely has he ever been his father. He feels the realization trickle down his spine and backs away from his sleeping son's door and sits back down at the kitchen table, shaking hands reaching once more for the bottle that is the only thing that makes sense to him these days when he isn't hunting.

Despite what Dean thinks, not only does John love him with a fierceness that comes from losing the only other person he ever loved, he knows his son better than Dean would ever guess. For instance, John knows that Dean uses his looks to his advantage, whether it is to garner information for a case or get a free beer in bars he is too young to be in. He also knows his son is extremely intelligent but thinks that John doesn't value that, so he hides it from him. He knows his son is sexually active and that he swings both ways, although he has never let Dean know he knows. But it isn't hard when you are with another person all day long to watch where their gaze goes when people walk by, and John has seen his son's head swivel for more boys than girls. He had been waiting for Dean to tell him, figuring the boy needed to own it himself before telling his Dad and he had been looking forward to being able to be a good father for a change, telling his son that he didn't give a shit who he loved or was attracted to, as long as he was safe.

When Dean had left tonight, John had felt compelled to follow him. Since being in this town, Dean seemed different, slightly distracted with his head in the clouds and it had him slightly worried.

Sitting in his truck across the way, he had seen Dean approach a younger, tall boy and the smile on his son's face when the boy had looked up at him. He had watched the boy touch Dean's face and had winced internally at the bruising, remembering the moment Dean's head had struck the root. He had watched his son offer his hand to the other boy and the looks on both of their faces and he shook his head, a smile playing on his lips without him knowing. Sure, he had seen Dean charm everyone around him and go off more than once with a girl or a guy that he thought John didn't know about, but he had never seen him like that. Shy, and nervous, biting his lip and his eyes wide and glassy and it reminded John so much of Mary on their first date he felt his eyes well up a little at the memory.

When they had disappeared into the theater, John had decided to wait, although he knew it was strange and slightly stalkerish to do. He had popped a beer and drank it slowly, eyes watching the front of the theater as he gauged how long they would be inside. His mind had been a torrent of emotions, walks down memory lane of all the firsts he had with Mary, to the current case where kids were being killed and he had no way to stop it. Two beers in and he had been almost shocked to see the time had flew by and Dean and the other boy were walking towards the Impala together, cold night air making them both hunch slightly.

They had driven to a small home in the suburbs and although he was parked several houses down, John hadn't missed the look on Dean's face as he gazed at the other boys home and he knew that Dean was wondering what it would have been like to grow up so normal. The guilt was so thick in his throat that he had trouble swallowing and when he saw the other boy slide closer to Dean and their lips meet, he had forced himself to drive away.

Back at their dumpy apartment, John had run the address of the home Dean had stopped at through a police database Bobby had linked him to and quickly found out who lived there. Jenny Morgan, wife of the late Darren Morgan, a Boston area police officer who had been killed by a man who later claimed to have no memory of it. John's stomach dipped at that. Demon, he hissed through his teeth. The evidence was all there. A normal guy who couldn't recall the last two weeks of his life, although everything he had done was completely out of character, a killing spree that had ended with the murder of a police officer, and the eye witness account of a strange black smoke and pungent odor at the time of the killing.

John shook his head slowly as he read the police report, thinking how ironic it was that Dean would be attracted unknowingly to someone who had also lost a parent to a demon. Continuing his reading, he found out her son's name was Sam and he attended the same high school Dean was currently registered at.

Digging into school board records, he found the boy's transcripts. Tested young, Sam Morgan was a gifted student, IQ well above average and straight A's across the board. Not many friends and the school psychologist who had interviewed him after a bullying incident had written that Sam seemed much older than his 15 years at the time, seemed unconcerned about the social norms for kids of his age, and seemed to be solely focused on graduating, going to college and becoming an investigator of the unknown. The counselor had found that career path very odd and noted as such.

John snorted and filled his glass once more. It just figured the first time Dean seemed to make a connection with another person it was the son of a cop who had been killed by a demon who wanted to be a paranormal investigator. Irony, thy name is John Winchester.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean glanced around the cafeteria as he put his tray down at an empty table. A few seniors sitting a table away yelled at him and he shook his head, grinned and waved. He didn't want to join them; he was waiting, _hoping _that Sam would have lunch with him.

Since their date on Saturday, Dean hadn't been able to put Sam out of his head. His smile, his scent, the dimples, the inexperienced yet completely sensual kisses the boy had given him were messing him up. He had mentally kicked himself for not getting Sam's phone number so he could at least text the other boy. So here he was, eating cafeteria food alone, hoping against hope Sam had the same lunch hour as him.

So lost in thought he almost missed it when Sam walked into the cafeteria. He watched the other boy for a moment, hair flopping over his expressive eyes, stuffed backpack over his shoulder as he made his way to the cafeteria line. He didn't grab a tray like most people, just a bottle of water and an apple before waiting patiently for his turn to pay.

When Sam turned around, Dean caught his eye and grinned at the way Sam's eye lit up making Dean's heart flip a little in his chest. The younger boy's cheeks pinkened and with his head down he made his way to Dean's table through the throng of other students.

As he walked past the table of seniors Garrett McNab, one of the football players called out, "Hey Morgan, take it up the ass lately?"

Dean rolled his eyes at the comment and readied himself to rush to Sam's aid but he didn't need to. Sam had stopped and turned to look at Garrett before saying softly, "I find it odd you are so interested in my sex life, Garrett. You should probably see a psychiatrist about your latent homosexual tendencies."

Dean couldn't help himself, he laughed out loud and Garrett's entire table's attention turned to him. Garrett made a move like he was about to get up and start something with Sam until Dean cocked an eyebrow at and gave him a challenging look. He held the other boys gaze for a moment and saw the instant when Garrett assessed that Dean was serious. Garrett eased back into his seat slowly and grumbled at his friend who was still chuckling to 'fuck off Chadwick' before starting to eat again.

Sam had noticed the exchange between Dean and Garrett and the idea that Dean was standing up for him made his whole chest warm. He gave Dean a shy smile and sat down across from him, pulling a brown bag from his backpack. At Dean's questioning look he shrugged and bit his lip saying, "My mom thinks the cafeteria food is disgusting so she makes my lunch." He pulled out two homemade sandwiches that were thick with meat, cheese and lettuce and Dean stared at them wistfully as he pushed a thin piece of mystery meat in congealed gravy around the plastic plate.

Sam chuckled and offered Dean one of the sandwiches and said, "She sent this one for you. Says you don't look like you get enough home cooking. Didn't like it much when I mentioned sandwiches weren't 'cooked'. Luckily I got a hard head 'cause as much as she slaps me on it, I could get brain damage."

Dean laughed and opened the sandwich eagerly, moaning around a huge bite. He watched desire flash in Sam's eyes and he grinned around his mouthful of food.

They ate in companionable silence for a bit and after he had half a sandwich demolished, Dean took a sip of soda and gestured towards Garrett who was staring at the back of Sam's head like he could set it on fire, before catching Dean's gaze and looking away quickly.

Sam pushed the crust of his sandwich around a bit and sighed. "I dunno really. Freshman year I was in his math class and I guess he didn't like that I got better grades than he did. He wants to go to Harvard or some shit and thinks he has to have the highest GPA in every class. Started calling me 'gay' last year, which is kinda funny since…." At that Sam stopped and his eyes crashed into Dean's, his cheeks flushing.

Dean was intrigued. "Since…? He said, gesturing for Sam to continue.

Sam looked down at the table for a moment, bit his bottom lip before glancing up at Dean through his bangs. "Since you," he said softly, ducking his head and busying himself opening his bottle of water.

Dean was confused. "Since me what?"

Sam smiled slightly down at his sandwich and said, "I wasn't sure myself, until…"

At that he met Dean's eyes again and Dean felt himself flush with pleasure. "Ahhh," he said because he had nothing to say and picked up the other half of his sandwich.

After eating they left the cafeteria, shoulders bumping slightly as they made their way down an almost empty hallway. Walking past a shadowy doorway, Dean grabbed Sam and pulled him into the shadows, kissing him fully on the lips. Sam melted against him instantly, his mouth opening for Dean's tongue as he gasped softly.

Pulling away from the other boy Dean stared into his eyes and spoke in almost a whisper. "I always knew I liked guys and girls, Sam. But I have never liked anyone…like this." He kissed Sam softly, sweetly. "Like you."

The smile that lit up Sam's face at hearing his words made every shadow in the doorway disappear and Dean felt his heart clench with a desperate realization. This wasn't some crush or stupid romantic interlude.

He was falling in love for the first time. In a place he wouldn't be able to stay.

Trying to hide his sadness, he pecked Sam's lips one more time and pushed the other boy down the hallway toward his next class.

After trading cell phone numbers with Sam and extracting a promise that Sam would text him later, Dean decided to skip his next classes. Not like P.E. really mattered to him. He trained hard for hunting and didn't feel like dribbling a basketball around for the next hour.

Instead he got into his baby and just drove. He found himself on the outskirts of town, near the place where the kids had been killed and parked. He sat staring out his windshield, thinking about Sam.

He went over everything whirling in his mind. He thought about how much he wanted the other boy, the way Sam's kisses made him desperate, the way Sam's smile warmed him down to his bone marrow, how even the most boring of topics came alive in Sam's soft, husky voice. He thought about Sam's safe life, his mother that took care of him, the future Sam spoke about for himself. He thought about his own future, dangerous hunts against unknown enemies, town after town, shitty motel beds and greasy diner food and wondered if maybe he should just quit while he was ahead with Sam. It would only bring him more pain when it was time to leave.

As soon as he thought it, he dismissed the idea. He may not have a future with Sam or with anyone, but he wasn't stupid enough to deny himself a little bit of happiness when he could get it. Sam made him happy and made him feel and as long as he could have it, he wanted it. Even knowing how shitty it would be when he would have to leave it behind.

Decision made, Dean turned on his car and drove towards town. Pulling up in front of the old apartment they were staying he pulled out his phone and sent Sam a text.

_Hey, wanna get 2gether and study tonight?_

He knew Sam was in class and was surprised when he got a response almost immediately.

_Don't have much homework, but still want 2 see u. 7 my place? My mama will b working til 9 or so._

Dean felt a big smile break out on his face as he typed his answer.

_Can't wait. C u then._

Watching his phone impatiently his heart dipped a bit when it chimed once more.

_Me 2. 3_

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

John looked up from the table as Dean came through the front door commenting, "You're home early."

Dean shrugged as he threw his backpack on the dilapidated couch and said, "yeah felt like knocking off, don't really give a shit about P.E. you know?" He crossed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, ignoring John's expression. He popped the cap off, took a swallow and gestured to John's journal open in front of him.

"Got anything on the case yet?" John shook his head, glancing down at his own scratchy handwriting.

"Nah, I think I know what is going on, just can't figure out how to stop it. It's almost a mix of ghosts and poltergeist, like two angry entities are causing the same set of circumstances."

He saw the surprise in Dean's expression as his son said, "Really? Can that happen? Do they—team up like that?"

It was John's turn to shrug and he said, "No idea. Got Bobby looking into it, but can't say for sure." He paused for a moment and looked at his son.

"Maybe we should head out again tonight, investigate the graves of the kids who have died during this whole thing?"

He watched several emotions flick across Dean's face, particularly a disappointed frown and he said quickly, "unless you got plans. Can handle it myself."

Dean looked so relieved that John wanted to laugh, but he bit his lip. He wanted desperately for Dean to tell him about Sam, but he didn't want to push.

Dean's face flushed slightly as he nodded almost absentmindedly. "Yeah, I got another-" he paused for a moment, "tutoring session tonight."

John nodded seriously, eyes locked with his son's and he said in a soft tone. "Yeah, well you don't want to miss that. Gotta graduate, right?"

Dean nodded gratefully and took another gulp of his beer.

"How is your tutor?" John shocked Dean by asking.

Flustered, Dean's mouth opened a few times before stuttering out, "Great. I mean. Good. You know. Smart guy, showing me what I'm doin' wrong, ya know?"

John smiled and decided to throw his son a bone. "Kinda cute too from the way you are flailing around there." He took a long pull from his own beer bottle and watched his son carefully.

Dean's eyes locked with his Dad's and he said in a low voice. "It's a guy Dad."

John shrugged casually and set his bottle down. "Your mother said that it didn't matter who you loved as long as you loved them for real. Always was a smart lady and just one of the many things I loved about her."

Dean looked so shocked that John almost burst out laughing. Reaching across the table to pat his son's arm he said, "Hard to live in each other's back pockets the way we do and not notice things, Dean. Just want you to know I don't give a shit. Guys, girls, muppets. Just don't be stupid about things is all."

Dean nodded jerkily, and grabbed up his beer bottle and said in a shaky voice. "Yeah uhm, well, I'm gonna jump in the shower and do some math homework before I see-him."

John just smiled and saluted Dean with his own bottle. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a good Dad.


End file.
